"You may be trac'd, my gentle friends, 'tis true, But who (says Reputation) can explore
My slippery steps? Keep, keep me in your view, If I'm once lost, you'll never find me more."
THE BEE, THE ANT, AND THE SPArrow.
ON a bright dewy summer's morn
A bee rang'd o'er the verdant lawn,
Studious to husband every hour,
And make the most of every flower.
Nimble, from stalk to stalk she flies
And loads with yellow wax, her thighs;
With which the artist builds her comb,
And keeps all tight and warm at home;
Or from the cowslip's golden bells,
Sucks honey to enrich her cells;
Or every tempting rose pursues,
Or sips the lily's fragrant dews;
Yet never robs the shining bloom,
Or of its beauty, or perfume.
Thus she discharg'd in every way
The various duties of the day.
It chanc'd, a frugal ant was near,
Whose brow was wrinkled o'er with care;
economist was she,
Nor less laborious than the bee.
By prudent parents often taught,
What ills await on want of thought;
That poverty on sloth attends,
On poverty, the loss of friends.
Hence, every day the ant is found
With anxious steps to tread the ground;
With curious search to trace the grain,
And drag the heavy load with pain."
The active bee, with pleasure, saw
The ant fulfil her parent's law.
Ah! sister-labourer, says she,
How
very fortunate are we,
Who, taught in infancy to know
The comforts which from labour flow,
Are independent of the great,
Nor know the wants of pride and state !
Why is our food so very sweet?
Because we earn before we eat.
Why are our wants so very few?
Because we Nature's call pursue.
Whence our complacency of mind?
Because we act our part assigned.
Have we incessant tasks to do?
Is not all nature busy too?
Doth not the sun, with constant pace
Persist to run his annual race?
Do not the stars which shine so bright,
Renew their courses every night?
Doth not the ox, obedient, bow
His patient neck, and draw the plough?
Or when did e'er the generous steed,
Withhold his labour or his speed?
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If you all Nature's system scan,
The only idle thing is man.
A wanton sparrow long'd to hear
Their sage discourse, and straight drew near;
The bird was talkative and loud;
As worthless and as vain a thing,
Perhaps, as ever wore a wing.
She found, as on a spray she sat,
The little friends were deep in chat;
That virtue was their favourite theme,
And toil and probity their scheme :
Such talk was hateful to her breast;
She thought them arrant prudes at best.
When to display her naughty mind,
Hunger, with cruelty combin'd,
She view'd the ant with savage eyes,
And hopt and hopt to snatch her prize.
The bee who watch'd her opening bill,
And guess'd her fell design to kill;
Ask'd her from whence her anger rose,
And why she treated ants as foes?
The sparrow her reply began,
And thus the conversation ran.
"Whenever I'm disposed to dine,
I think the whole creation mine;
That I'm a bird of high degree,
And every insect made for me.
Hence, oft I search the emmet brood,
For emmets are delicious food;
And oft in wantonness and play,
I slay ten thousand in a day."
A prowling cat the miscreant spies,
And wide expands her amber eyes ;
Near, and more near Grimalkin draws;
She wags her tail, protends her paws;
Then, springing on her thoughtless prey,
She bore the vicious bird away.
Thus, in her cruelty and pride,
The wicked, wanton, sparrow died.
THE TWO DIAMONDS.
A CURIOUS cabinet open flew,
And gave its treasures to my view.
Here, butterflies, a beauteous band,
The plumage of their wings expand:
Here shells were ranged in ample store,
Ransack'd from every sea and shore.
A cell, distinguish'd from the rest,
Two diamonds, of great worth possest.
One cut with care, and polish'd fine;
The other rough from Nature's mine.
The unwrought stone, in language clear,
Thus seem'd to say in fancy's ear;
"Ah! sister gem, amaz'd I see,
The difference between you and me ;
Deep in Golconda's mine we lay,
In equal rudeness, side by side
Unknown to fame, unseen by pride.
But now, and truth must own it due,
All admiration falls on you.
While you in every change of light,
Rufulgent flash upon the sight.
What eye but joys to meet your rays;
What tongue but wantons in your praise."
The polish'd diamond, void of pride,
In modest accents thus replied,
"The bright perfections which you see,
Are native both to you and me ;
Nature to both alike was kind,
And both for equal ends design'd.
But know, though Nature forms with ease,
'Tis art must give the power to please.
The artist, with assiduous care,
Proportion'd fine, and polish'd fair;
Call'd into life each brilliant hue,
And wak'd the lightning that you view.
But, oh! had chance withheld her skill,
I had remain'd unnotic'd still.
may come, when you shall shine With lustre far surpassing mine.
My lovely friend, you here may find,
An emblem of the human mind.
Uneducated Nature's child
Is ignorant, and rude, and wild.
To reason's pow'r has small pretence;
Ideas few, but those of sense.
But education, heavenly art!
Does every needful aid impart ;
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